I'm sitting here at Pennsylvania Perk (because it's on Pennsylvania Ave, not because it's in Pennsylvania) and some guy just walked in wearing an oxford shirt, tie, black jacket, floor-reaching black satin skirt and black lipstick. Why write about it? Well, because that's about the most interesting thing that's happened in the past week.
Life here in Denver is very much like life would be in Brooklyn right about now, but with less capoeira and nephew time. Oh, and of course, less sweat. My best buddy works from about 8am to 8pm, so I'm on my own most of the time and I'm filling the hours with some online work (prepping for next semester), taking an online class (for TESOL certification), walking in the park, biking around town, and cooking whatever is on sale at Whole Foods (last night: chicken thighs and mustard greens).
I've taken a few classes with the two capoeira groups here. The folks from Capoeira Luanda are really great - strong capoeiristas and very nice people. Their batizado is next week, so I'm looking forward the workshops and dance classes they're going to offer. I took a maculele workshop with the other group, Canto do Galo, the first weekend I was here during their batizado. The class was really great -- it was taught more like an african dance class (moving across the floor) and was full of high energy. They do maculele differently than I do -- hitting just on the 4th beat instead of the 3rd and 4th, so it was interesting to adjust. But other than the maculele, I wasn't that into Canto do Galo's training/playing style. I took a class with Mestre Acordeon, which was a good experience, but I couldn't help thinking that Foca is better teacher by far, and even that all of our visiting teachers who give classes during batizado week (I'm thinking of Ralil, Bahia, Papiba, Nagi, Bikudo) are better at the actual teaching part than Acordeon was on this day. I'm not intending to talk shit about Mestre Acordeon; it's just that every time I've trained with anyone outside of Raizes, I notice again how amazing my teachers are and how lucky I am to have found them. And these teachers from other groups are realy great, so it is an even higher compliment to my group that they're the cream of such a good crop. During roda time, when Acordeon was singing, I really felt privileged to be there -- the man's voice is so beautiful. Anyway, I'm going to Luanda classes two or three times a week and am really glad that Profesor Gaviao and all of his students have welcomed me as they have.
We're working on plans for the holiday weekend. We were going to go tubing down Boulder Creek or the Cache la Poudre river, but water levels are too high, so the waterways are closed for tubing :(
So, the back-up plan will include some biking & picnicking. Not bad for a back-up plan.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Yummy Pike Wilderness
I have such mixed feelings about camping. On the one hand, I totally love it: the freedom to do nothing but stare into a fire for hours, the fresh air, the fluttering of bird wings, the hum of the river passing by my campsite. On the other hand, I sometimes feel like I've outgrown it: the days of dirt lodged in every crevice of my hand/fingernails/toes, temperatures dropping so low that I don't want to leave my relatively warm sleeping bag/tent to find a spot to pee at 6am, boredom, and too many sausages and s'mores consumed in too short of a time period.
Last week, we went to the Pike National Forest to do some camping on Mount Evans. Not the hike-in-with-all-your-stuff-in-your-backpack type of camping, but the buy-firewood-at-the-grocery-store-and-park-your-car-and-unload-into-a-campsite-with-a-handy-fire-pit-already-there type of camping. It was, overall, splendid, and even the massive amounts of dirt on my hands, arms, legs, jeans and socks didn't really bother me until the last day. We found a lovely day hike trail called Abyss, which sounds like it could be rough, but was actually a smooth, meandering stroll through stands of aspen and pine, through meadows of dandelions, log hopping over rapid creeks, with views sometimes of whole vast valleys and mountain peaks.
It's a good thing it was an easy hike, because I was feeling a bit nauseous from eating too much sausage that morning, which is a condition hereby known as feeling sauseous (which is to be nauseous from sausage, in case you didn't figure that out already). I left the mountain with clearer lungs from the fresh crisp mountain air and with a hilariously shaped hiker's sunburn that made its way around my tank top straps, into the part in my hair and all the way down to a spot on my low back that was exposed while walking with the backpack on.
I think I've decided that I don't really like hiking so much. If we're hiking to a place (i.e., a lake to swim in, a waterfall to climb under, etc.), then I don't mind, but the "hike for the sake of hiking" experience just doesn't speak to me. And even though I've learned this lesson before (ten years ago, on the first day of a 5 day journey along the southern part of the Appalachian Trail), I seem to forget it and wind up agreeing to go on hikes with people who genuinely like them. Hiking, like running without music or riding a bike with no destination, is just so boring, but that might have more to do with my own dislike of being too quiet to hear all the thoughts running through my head and may have nothing at all to do with the actual act of walking in a forward motion on a dirt path. I know that people really like to be all up in nature, observing its glory, but I find this is difficult to do while walking on a surface that alternates from being smooth dirt to craggy rocks, to full of earth-poppin' tree roots, to slippery mud slicks and back to non-threatening clear dirt pathways. In other words, I spend most of my time looking down to avoid stepping on something that will twist my ankle instead of basking in the glory of the wild (to be fair, I do this in the city too, and as a result haven't stepped in dog poop fr as long as I can remember).
But overall the trip was lovely, the wilderness was amazing, and the campfires were spectacular..
We returned to Denver with just enough time to shower (twice) and get ready to enjoy the Gay Pride events of the weekend. And as the Flintstones theme song promises, we did have a gay ole time.
Last week, we went to the Pike National Forest to do some camping on Mount Evans. Not the hike-in-with-all-your-stuff-in-your-backpack type of camping, but the buy-firewood-at-the-grocery-store-and-park-your-car-and-unload-into-a-campsite-with-a-handy-fire-pit-already-there type of camping. It was, overall, splendid, and even the massive amounts of dirt on my hands, arms, legs, jeans and socks didn't really bother me until the last day. We found a lovely day hike trail called Abyss, which sounds like it could be rough, but was actually a smooth, meandering stroll through stands of aspen and pine, through meadows of dandelions, log hopping over rapid creeks, with views sometimes of whole vast valleys and mountain peaks.
It's a good thing it was an easy hike, because I was feeling a bit nauseous from eating too much sausage that morning, which is a condition hereby known as feeling sauseous (which is to be nauseous from sausage, in case you didn't figure that out already). I left the mountain with clearer lungs from the fresh crisp mountain air and with a hilariously shaped hiker's sunburn that made its way around my tank top straps, into the part in my hair and all the way down to a spot on my low back that was exposed while walking with the backpack on.
I think I've decided that I don't really like hiking so much. If we're hiking to a place (i.e., a lake to swim in, a waterfall to climb under, etc.), then I don't mind, but the "hike for the sake of hiking" experience just doesn't speak to me. And even though I've learned this lesson before (ten years ago, on the first day of a 5 day journey along the southern part of the Appalachian Trail), I seem to forget it and wind up agreeing to go on hikes with people who genuinely like them. Hiking, like running without music or riding a bike with no destination, is just so boring, but that might have more to do with my own dislike of being too quiet to hear all the thoughts running through my head and may have nothing at all to do with the actual act of walking in a forward motion on a dirt path. I know that people really like to be all up in nature, observing its glory, but I find this is difficult to do while walking on a surface that alternates from being smooth dirt to craggy rocks, to full of earth-poppin' tree roots, to slippery mud slicks and back to non-threatening clear dirt pathways. In other words, I spend most of my time looking down to avoid stepping on something that will twist my ankle instead of basking in the glory of the wild (to be fair, I do this in the city too, and as a result haven't stepped in dog poop fr as long as I can remember).
But overall the trip was lovely, the wilderness was amazing, and the campfires were spectacular..
We returned to Denver with just enough time to shower (twice) and get ready to enjoy the Gay Pride events of the weekend. And as the Flintstones theme song promises, we did have a gay ole time.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Altitude adjustment
I lived 45 minutes north of here in Fort Collins for two years while going to graduate school at CSU, and I never really thought it through before, but I guess Fort Collins is much lower than Denver because I don't recall having any altitude adjustment issues when I moved there. But here in the Mile High City, oh my lord, I can hardly breathe. If I'm walking and want to take a deep breath, I have to stop walking and really concentrate, and I'm not always successful in my attempt to get a full one. If I forget to stop and take deep breaths every block or so, I start to feel as though I visited one of the previously mentioned dispensaries -- a little head rush and a little fuzzy brain syndrome kicks in. It's been tough to keep up with my workouts because it's pretty hard to workout when you can't breathe. So, I'm just sticking to hours-long walks, deep motionless breaths and 5 minute bursts of strength training with my resistance band. I thought it would take just a few days to adjust, but someone told me it will really take a couple of weeks. We have some hikes planned for the end of next week, so I'm working on mind over matter and plan to adjust by then.
On Wednesday, one of my walks led me to one of the capoeira schools here, Capoeira Canto do Galo. Their batizado is this weekend, so they have all kinds of special guests in town, including Mestre Acordeon. I watched a kid's class in which the kids worked on Mestre Bimba's sequencias and was amazed that the kid's class was taught just like an adult's class. No games, no animal movements, just line facing front doing the movements. I prefer the style of interacting with kids that I've learned from Mestre Foca and Instrutora Rouxinol, which is more fun for student and teacher, but was also impressed with the strict approach taken here, Mestre Galo invited me to participate in their workshops taking place today, as well as a dance class and open roda. So, as long as I can breathe, I'm going to go check it out, if only for the opportunity to train in the vicinity of a legend like Acordeon. I'm also starving for the sound of spoken Portuguese, so I'm looking forward to this afternoon.
I hope all of my New York friends are beating the heat. As for me, I had to get up to close the windows last night because it was too cool! Ahhhhhhh.
Denver observations, part one
Denver is only a 30 minute drive away from Boulder, which is often ranked as the healthiest/happiest city in the U.S. It seems that a lot can change in just 30 minutes. Most people seem pretty happy here, but healthy? Err, not so much by my standards.
I've been spending my days walking a lot as I get acclimated to the altitude (more on that later), and I've noticed one majorly disturbing thing about the people I pass by -- about 1 out of every 3 is smoking! Gross. People walking are smoking, people riding their bikes are smoking, people taking a break from a pick-up game of hoops are smoking, even people driving by me in their cars are smoking so much that I can smell it as they pass. Super gross. With all this crisp mountain air to suck up, why would anyone want to replace that fresh goodness with nasty cigarette smoke? Blech. Thankfully, smoking is banned in restaurants and other indoor public spaces, but seriously, Denver people, get it together and quit that disgusting habit already. It's hard enough to breathe up here without that smoke drifting from every direction.
On a more entertaining note is that fact that marijuana is decriminalized here, so there is an official dispensary within spitting distance of wherever I am. At least it smells better than cigarette smoke, but I'm amazed at the amount of stoned out people sitting on their porches at 10am; come on people, don't you have to go to work? The prices and strains of ounces are advertised in the local papers, in the back along with escort services and music show listings. It is surreal.
I've been spending my days walking a lot as I get acclimated to the altitude (more on that later), and I've noticed one majorly disturbing thing about the people I pass by -- about 1 out of every 3 is smoking! Gross. People walking are smoking, people riding their bikes are smoking, people taking a break from a pick-up game of hoops are smoking, even people driving by me in their cars are smoking so much that I can smell it as they pass. Super gross. With all this crisp mountain air to suck up, why would anyone want to replace that fresh goodness with nasty cigarette smoke? Blech. Thankfully, smoking is banned in restaurants and other indoor public spaces, but seriously, Denver people, get it together and quit that disgusting habit already. It's hard enough to breathe up here without that smoke drifting from every direction.
On a more entertaining note is that fact that marijuana is decriminalized here, so there is an official dispensary within spitting distance of wherever I am. At least it smells better than cigarette smoke, but I'm amazed at the amount of stoned out people sitting on their porches at 10am; come on people, don't you have to go to work? The prices and strains of ounces are advertised in the local papers, in the back along with escort services and music show listings. It is surreal.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
This summer: Denver
Though nothing can compare to last summer's adventures in Brazil, this time I've packed up the ole luggage to head out to Denver for two months. I'm staying with my very best friend, Wade, and will be keeping busy with all of the outdoors-y stuff here. Strangely enough, the weather here is exactly the same as it was in Brasilia last summer, which is great because I packed pretty much the exact same things for my stay, not including the little sweat-soaking rags I have to carry with me everywhere during a Brooklyn summer.
I almost didn't make it here yesterday; I made it onto my flight with nary a second to spare. There was a fire on the AirTrain track on the way to JFK so we were delayed on the track for about 20 minutes, then scuttled onto the slowest and most crowded-est shuttle buses ever (shout out to the sweet 18 yr old skater boy who gave me the seat he was ready to snag). I got to my terminal 20 minutes before the flight was scheduled to take off, with a piece of luggage to check. I ran to check-in, found a JetBlue employee to help me cut in line in front of everyone, agreed to consent to the possibility that my luggage might arrive a day late, ran up to airport security and asked everyone in line if I could cut to the front because I was about to miss my flight - and they all said yes! Then, because I was running so late, I got shuffled through the xray without delay even though my carry-on contained a huge bottle of water, a pocket knife and a box of straight razors (hmmm, one need only visit the airport for ample evidence of white privilege). From there, with a heavy carry-on and big purse, I ran to my gate at full speed and got on just before the door was closing. This was the best part of my day. Why? Because in the past (yes, I've been very late for many flights before), such a sprint carrying extra weight would have left me breathless, but this time, I felt I could have gone on and on. I guess all of those games of Sao Bento Corrido are really paying off in the cardio endurance realm!
I alternated my TV channels between a 3 hour marathon of The Office, Seinfeld, back to back episodes of the National Geographic series on women who work in male prisons, and my favorite episodes of the amazing BBC series Planet Earth (including the wild dog aerial hunting scene, the sea otters who taunt and outsmart the crocodile, and the heartbreaking but captivating coverage of late night lions attacking and killing a slow-moving baby elephant). To top it all off, my flight arrived an hour early and my luggage, which was not guaranteed to make it, was the first one off the baggage carousel. Some gals have all the luck.
When Wade pulled in to pick me up, we hugged for so long that I thought the security guy was going to tell us to move along. But, hey, we had three years of missed hugs to make up for! After a quick dinner at the Applaloosa Grill (which I will always hereby refer to as the Apple Loser Grill because that sounds more fun), we got home and tried very hard not to stay up all night talking.
Today, my mission involves finding Whole Foods, setting up internet at the house, getting acclimated to the altitude with a bike ride in the park, and checking out the Muay Thai school that offers classes during the day. Tomorrow, I'll start the online TEFL certification course I'm completing this summer and will make a big batch of rice and beans. Neither one of us has a camera, but I'll find some way to get some pics posted of me in the summer NOT SWEATING (a sweet miracle only possible in the dry, dry west).
Your mission? Go to as many of New York's free summer outdoor concerts as possible and imagine me standing next to you.
I almost didn't make it here yesterday; I made it onto my flight with nary a second to spare. There was a fire on the AirTrain track on the way to JFK so we were delayed on the track for about 20 minutes, then scuttled onto the slowest and most crowded-est shuttle buses ever (shout out to the sweet 18 yr old skater boy who gave me the seat he was ready to snag). I got to my terminal 20 minutes before the flight was scheduled to take off, with a piece of luggage to check. I ran to check-in, found a JetBlue employee to help me cut in line in front of everyone, agreed to consent to the possibility that my luggage might arrive a day late, ran up to airport security and asked everyone in line if I could cut to the front because I was about to miss my flight - and they all said yes! Then, because I was running so late, I got shuffled through the xray without delay even though my carry-on contained a huge bottle of water, a pocket knife and a box of straight razors (hmmm, one need only visit the airport for ample evidence of white privilege). From there, with a heavy carry-on and big purse, I ran to my gate at full speed and got on just before the door was closing. This was the best part of my day. Why? Because in the past (yes, I've been very late for many flights before), such a sprint carrying extra weight would have left me breathless, but this time, I felt I could have gone on and on. I guess all of those games of Sao Bento Corrido are really paying off in the cardio endurance realm!
I alternated my TV channels between a 3 hour marathon of The Office, Seinfeld, back to back episodes of the National Geographic series on women who work in male prisons, and my favorite episodes of the amazing BBC series Planet Earth (including the wild dog aerial hunting scene, the sea otters who taunt and outsmart the crocodile, and the heartbreaking but captivating coverage of late night lions attacking and killing a slow-moving baby elephant). To top it all off, my flight arrived an hour early and my luggage, which was not guaranteed to make it, was the first one off the baggage carousel. Some gals have all the luck.
When Wade pulled in to pick me up, we hugged for so long that I thought the security guy was going to tell us to move along. But, hey, we had three years of missed hugs to make up for! After a quick dinner at the Applaloosa Grill (which I will always hereby refer to as the Apple Loser Grill because that sounds more fun), we got home and tried very hard not to stay up all night talking.
Today, my mission involves finding Whole Foods, setting up internet at the house, getting acclimated to the altitude with a bike ride in the park, and checking out the Muay Thai school that offers classes during the day. Tomorrow, I'll start the online TEFL certification course I'm completing this summer and will make a big batch of rice and beans. Neither one of us has a camera, but I'll find some way to get some pics posted of me in the summer NOT SWEATING (a sweet miracle only possible in the dry, dry west).
Your mission? Go to as many of New York's free summer outdoor concerts as possible and imagine me standing next to you.
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